Masterlist
talk to me
started: june 7, 2022
last updated: july 28, 2025
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Masterlist
talk to me
started: june 7, 2022
last updated: july 28, 2025
rules
mha
aot
fruits basket
haikyuu
demon slayer
jjk
fic recs
my thoughts
❛ 𝗜’𝗠 𝗟𝗢𝗪 𝗢𝗡 𝗚𝗔𝗦 , 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗 𝗔 𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗧 爆豪勝己
synopsis. after two weeks of radio silence, katsuki finally confesses
contents. suggestive! angst with a happy ending. pro hero! katsuki bakugou x pro hero! fem! reader. canon compliant. mutual pining. friends to lovers. post-argument. bakugou is bad at feelings. first kisses and confessions. light on smut࿐
katsuki bakugou is angry. he’s holding two plaques made of polished metal and engraved with flowery script, playing nice with the heroes that dare to approach him, and all he wants to do is blow up the entire damn gala.
he wants to shred it all with his bare hands. the shimmering gowns, the flashing cameras, the ceaseless, vapid small talk. he wants to tear it all down and watch it burn. in part, because he hates attending these pointless glaze fests.
but the real reason, the epicenter of his explosive fury, is standing across the room, looking beautiful as always. you.
you haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. fourteen days. three hundred and thirty-six hours of suffocating silence. and here you are, bathed in the soft glow of chandeliers, looking like you don’t have a care in the world. you’re holding a glass of deep red wine, the dark liquid swirling in the bowl of the glass as you listen, rapt, to every word that falls from shoto todoroki’s lips.
todoroki. icy-hot. of all fucking people.
anger is constantly simmering just beneath katsuki’s skin, a thrum he usually channels into his hero work. rage he so often uses to fuel his quirk. but tonight, his anger is personal. it’s a hot, sick feeling in his gut that coils tighter every time he hears your laugh — a sound he used to be able to coax out of you so easily — now echoing across the room because of someone else.
that half-and-half bastard. shoto fucking todoroki.
꒰ MARKING — eijiro kirishima ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ
i think kiri will only mark you — like full blown, uncontrolled marking — when he's overstimulated...
going raw for the first time and you can tell he's barely holding himself together, his thrusts are shallow and his eyes glossed over like he's trying not to break.
having to coax him through each movement, kissing his jawline and thumbing away the tears in his eyes as he moves inside you, mouth agape like it needs something to cling to.
so you give that to him.
guiding his head to the crook of your neck and whispering 'bite' against the shell of his ear. you expect him to ignore you, give a warning thrust, laughing as he tells you he 'isn't that far gone.'
but it doesn't happen, and instead you're graced with teeth digging into your shoulder.
it's gentle at first, like he's holding onto the slightest bit of restraint, but when you clench around him, back arched and moaning in his ear — he knows it's an invitation to be a little rougher <3
a/n: to go off this blurb from 🦈 nonnie, marking supremacy | masterlist
꒰ 💌 mdni. kirishima won’t let his shy girl look away during missionary. . . ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ
kirishima won’t let you look away, tangled within his muscular frame, all sweaty limbs and breathless gasps wrapped up in pure ecstasy. his body hovers above yours, casting shadows in the dim light spilling through the loose curtains and cool evening air. the sweet smell of vanilla wafts through the room, soft ribbons of smoke curling lazily from the incense he had lit only moments prior.
kirishima always makes sure the moment is sensual, wrapped in a lovesick haze—he’s a very romantic man at heart. and he holds yours with large, calloused hands adorned with various scars that trail up his arms, across his back, and toward his chest like inked medals, tributes to his life as a hero—a man very much capable of violence, yet all soft lips and hushed reassurance when he’s buried beneath the covers with you. his favorite place, he thinks. tucked away with you, lapping at your spoils, while you squirm beneath him, all pretty whimpers and trembling limbs.
the head of his cock traces your slick folds slowly, your pussy aching for his girth to finally stuff your needy hole full. his voice is low, a rasp that settles warm against your skin. you’re feverish underneath him, body practically molded to his, the way he keeps you close. voice rough yet it holds a softness reserved only for you, he’s demanding too—every time you squirm or let your gaze drift to the ceiling, nerves curling tight in your chest during this intimate, overwhelming moment.
“look at me.” he says it like a mantra with such authority that it only makes the wetness between your thighs pool further, the ache inside you growing louder. you shake your head weakly, but his cock pushes through your entrance now, your hole greedily welcoming him, swallowing him down to the base. he’s warm inside you, full in a way that sends a rushing sensation rushing through your body. you need him to move, need him to fuck you dizzy.
“mphm, kiri i need you to mo—”
he thrusts once, rutting his hips into you slowly—just enough to graze your sweet spot, sending a rush of white-hot pleasure through your body, before stilling almost immediately.
“like that?” he asks, voice strained, and you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to keep going.
his grin is wild, sharp, shark-like teeth glinting as the edges of his lips curl cruelly. he waits, blood-red eyes fixed on you, and even through the haze of lust you can feel the weight of his stare.
he’s waiting for you to cave.
you know he won’t give in until you look at him.
despite the urge to curl away and hide, you slowly turn, your eyes catching the velvet softness hidden within his stare. your heart—the very organ tasked with keeping you alive—beats so rapidly you fear it may give one final pump and finally surrender as you weakly meet his devoted gaze.
his soul seems to brim in the irises of his eyes, to spill from the pads of his fingertips—the same ones that catch your jaw the moment you falter and turn away again, burying yourself in the plush pillow where the faint scent of lilies lingers in the fabric from the detergent you’d washed it with.
his touch is warm as he cups your jaw, fingers pressing gently into your skin, thumb tracing idly over the softness of your bottom lip.
“look at me, i wanna see that pretty face.”
your cheeks bloom a deep red under his honeyed words. “shut up, you’re so dumb,” you mutter, completely flustered, shoving his hand away—but it only makes him chuckle. his face drops into the crook of your shoulder, deep crimson locks spilling forward, bangs falling into his eyes before he brushes them aside. he looks slightly disheveled, completely open for you.
his thumb presses against your lips before slipping past them, kneading gently at your gums as a boyish grin spreads across his face. “you’re so cute. you have no reason to be shy, baby… just keep looking at me, hm?” he murmurs. when he pulls his thumb free, saliva glistens along the pad of it. you bite down lightly, leaving behind faint marks from your teeth.
“she bites,” he says, something wild flickering across his expression.
his hands find yours, fingers interlacing as he pins them above your head, hips rocking into you with a steady, building rhythm. your eyes stay locked on him, both of you slick with heat, the sounds of him filling you echoing in the tight space between you. his thrusts turn fast, erratic—until he slows just enough to drag against your g-spot, chasing the way your breath stutters at the curve of him.
his forehead falls against yours, maroon strands spilling around you both like a curtain shielding you from the world outside your windows. one hand slips free to cup your face, thumb tracing soft circles into your skin. kirishima’s lips find yours again, his tongue brushing along the seam of your mouth, asking—before taking. you melt into him, breaths tangled, shared, stolen, given back all at once, inhaling each other’s oxygen, greedily consuming it. a perfect depiction of love.
his other hand leaves yours, drifting lower, finding the swollen bud of your clit. he rubs slow, light circles—barely there—but paired with the heat of his mouth, the wet press of his tongue, and the steady thrust of his cock, it’s enough to make your thighs shake. he smells like warm cedarwood and clean soap, layered with something faintly musky and lived-in, like he’s just stepped out of training, and it clings to him in a way that’s completely intoxicating—you’re drunk off his scent.
his movements falter just slightly, hips stuttering as your body tightens around him, pulsing.
“fuck…” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. “she’s gripping me.”
his forehead presses harder to yours, almost too much. “you feel so good… look so pretty when you finish on my cock, my sweet baby,” he coos.
your nails dig into his broad back, crescent marks forming as you cling to him.
“gonna spill,” he mutters under his breath.
you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, refusing to let go. he glances down at you, breath catching, a half-laugh breaking free.
“you’re sure you don’t want me to pu—”
you only tighten your hold, thighs squeezing his torso.
he laughs, breathless, grin sharp and besotted with fondness, “greedy girl.”
꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!
@tokkushin pushing the shy!gf agenda (≧◡≦) ♡ !!
note : i may have went overboard with the detail but i really hope u guys can feel the intimacy i was trying to portray. . i listened to cinderella by mac miller while writing this and i love that song sigh. reblogs, likes and comments are so appreciated and make my day 🫶
taglist : @xoxojisu @esilek @candiiee @cvnt4him @panchikogirlfriend @lotusstarr @cupkiki @3lenaatvt @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @wonubby @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @luckybibucky @changkyunnnie @twoplayergaymers @izutwos @doubelieveme @ivankinnieclatter @roronoafushiguroaratakahakari @green-orange-bloom @sparklylanddetective @lem-hhn @gaige312 @ryobaby @hrts4cupid @buuxbear @b00rants @v4mp1r3b4tzz @trilxogyyy @loveergirll @searchingfornothinggg @megumisrighttoe @rarebambi @vitya124 @sogmarizzler @lilfluffybunny @dreamyreadinglover @nonokoo @yxo7 @sunnyfieldsz @ludmiig @azizxxxah @lun3z take a look at this post to be added, or removed!
you know that trope where it’s princess + knight, but they’ve both been captured by the bad guys and the princess is now gripped by the jaw by the villain, receiving a thin cut to her cheek while remaining completely still with a defiant look in her eyes even as a droplet of blood begins to trickle out of the wound, all while 3 people AT THE VERY LEAST need to have their hands locked on the knight because he’s thrashing around like a wild animal, trying so so so desperately, violently, to get to her?
yeah, that’s porn to me.
EVERYBODY TALKS (4.6k)
— bakugou katsuki x reader
synopsis: your ex boyfriend hates when you go to his friend’s hangouts. he still loves you though.
tags: minors dni, 18+, angsty, fluffy, smutty, making out, fingering (f). mentions of: jealousy, cheating (nobody does this) and insecurity.
notes: i rarely write insecure yns!!!!! usually i make bkg the insecure one LOL but branching out this new year. my true yn is neverrrrrr insecure though just so we are clear lol
when people say don’t date within your friendship group, don’t. when you break up, annoyances over too much pda and escaping the group to make out now become awkward encounters in group gatherings, having a conversation pretending the other isn’t there and parties trying to sneak a look at the other. every time you look at bakugou, he notices. every single time.
it didn’t mean to end badly with bakugou katsuki. you promise, a cross over your heart, that you didn’t want it to be an explosive ending because you knew you still had to see him regularly. you didn't only have the same friends but you lived in the same area, you had the same job. there’s equal chances that you’d see him on your weekly food run or in a meeting in your agency. though with this inevitability of seeing the pro hero again, it luckily means your friends work together so you don’t have to.
including tonight, when you were told bakugou wasn’t coming to midoriya’s monthly friend gathering because he’d be coming back late from his mission abroad. finally, it would be your turn to hang with your friends without the elephant shaped explosion hero in the room.
you let yourself through the open door, smile plastered on and pulling off your jacket, “sorry i’m late! there was traffic on the road coming over—,”
the room falls silent. so quiet you could hear a pin drop. three pairs of eyes bounce like a ping pong match between you and your ex boyfriend, the one who wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. you feel like a divorced parent, screaming that it’s your turn with the kids tonight.
OBVIOUSLY!!
— bakugou katsuki x f!reader
— when you come home drunk to your boyfriend, you’re horny. turns out his best friend wants to watch. you both allow it.
— smut, established relationship, izuku watches, everyone’s drunk, fingering, touching, kisses, you have a quirk!!, pro hero!au,
“what the fuck is that?”
bakugou’s glass only carries a sip of whiskey left but he discards it once he hears his front door rattling. the hero springs up to his feet, sparks shooting from his palm out of pure confusion.
“are you expecting anyone, kacchan?” midoriya, the explosive heroes best friend asks, still seated in bakugou’s office sofa. his eyes are alert, a classic crayon green, but his body stays slumped. he swishes the vodka in his glass around, then places it down on the cherry oak side table.
“no? who the fuck can even get past my security?”
“i can’t sense any danger coming from them.”
it’s until the door shakes again, then a clash of metal keys on concrete on the other side. there’s a soft whine, then a groan and then another attempt of stuffing a key into the lock. bakugou’s shoulders drop but cheeks raise slightly.
“definitely no danger coming from her.”
there’s no sound of the door unlocking just you now in his hallway. a clunk of shoes being dragged off your feet, your bag being thrown down. a few mumbles from you.
“stupid key. i hate keys. i feel bad for all the people that have to use them.”
“wasn’t she supposed to be back later?” midoriya asks and bakugou shrugs as he shifts to sit back in his seat.
“yeah,” he chuckles, “three, two, one—,”
“‘ki!” you shout, “‘ki, where are you?”
he doesn’t even have to reply because you appear in the room, using your quirk to walk through walls.
you’re still in your winter jacket and he can tell immediately— you’re drunk. your eyes are lazed, so pretty but sleepy and you have a silly grin on your face at the sight of your boyfriend. your hands come out to grab him, finger tips bending playfully.
“hey babygirl,” bakugou says and it’s only midoriya who notices the soft look in his best friend’s eyes. how bakugou’s shoulders relax at your presence, his body completely facing you. his feet twitching to move closer. he could probably write pages of notes on the difference in bakugou katsuki after he met you, including the way he lets out a deep exhale simply at the sight of you.
SWEET CHALET
— bakugou katsuki x reader
synopsis: you and the gang are on a winter cabin holiday! though you’re now forced to share a bunk bed with your boyfriend because you forgot to tell them you were dating
cw: smut, minors dni.
“well, it is your fault for keeping your relationship a secret for so long. how was i supposed to know you’d want to share a bed?”
your friend kirishima directs this question to your boyfriend bakugou as all three at you stare at an old wooden rickety bunk bed. you were the first one to be down for a cabin holiday with your friends at the end of the year. marshmellow roastings, campfires, gloves, hot chocolate and kisses on the tip of your nose. until you realised you were slow to tell your friends you’ve actually been dating the grumpy blonde and now you’re stuck sharing a teeny tiny room with a bunk bed you hope can fit him.
honestly to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. you were still in a room with him but you were sure that if bakugou stared at the bed any longer, it would set on fire. he’d be happy about that too.
“but you still made us share a room? shoulda got us two separate rooms with bigger fuckin’ beds,” he grunts, crossing his arms across his chest with his black suitcase on his right and your suitcase on his left.
kirishima laughs with a shrug, “that was on kaminari, he thought making you share would push you guys to be together. guess you both were way ahead of us.”
you roll your eyes with a grin while bakugou grunts.
“well i’m taking top bunk. i’m not letting you crush me during the night,” you announce, hanging up your jacket and pushing your suitcase to the ground to get ready for bed.
“i’ll leave you both to it then, see you in the morning!”
after saying your goodnight to the red head, you look up to find your boyfriend still frowning.
“i want another room. i’ll go out and find a hotel,” he states, shaking his head.
hey there ! I hope you're doing okay !
I've been to a wedding recently and when it was time for slow dancing of the couples ... omg bakugo would NOT leave my damn mind !
like , the whispers of admiration between us , slight giggles when things become too cheesy , maybe stealing kisses , teasing eachother AAAA I CANT OMG
you always picture things perfectly , the emotions , expressions , charactaristics , everything !!
would you please write sth on it ? if you want to do so too , of course 😅
you wrote this in september 24 and i want to write rn so im writing this lol
“you wanna dance, huh?”
your boyfriend is facing you as you face the couples dotted around the dance floor. you’re at your baby cousins wedding, filled with childhood friends and family and it’s been the sweetest, most emotional day ever. you were lucky enough to be chosen as a bridesmaid, still donning a beautiful long baby pink silk dress.
bakugou loves it, keeps running his hand down your sides just to feel the silk across his skin and staring at you from top to bottom. you feel gorgeous, he makes you feel gorgeous and he looks gorgeous in his sharp tailored black suit which you know probably cost more than all the dresses put together.
you’re nodding, rapidly staring at the couples. piano renditions of pop songs play in the background and it only lives to make you swoon. you sigh, “i do.”
then you stand without warning and with a big sigh, bakugou copies you. he hates dancing even though he’s actually pretty good at it. naturally gifted at everything he is which would make you jealous if it was anyone else but comes in so handy with him.
“fuckin’ hate doin’ this in front of people.” he snatches your hand to drag you to the centre of the floor.
“but you’re gonna do it for me,” you state with a smile so bright, the twinkles from the disco ball above you are put to shame.
“always for you,” he mumbles as he stops, sliding his arms around your waist as yours link behind his neck.
together, you sway. chests pressed, his large hands hot on your waist. to you, bakugou katsuki is pure comfort. a word nobody will use for him but you. he’s warm toasty comfort. a person you can completely be you around, showing up as every version of yourself and he’ll be there with open arms. even dancing in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by your family and friends, knowing everyone is watching.
though, you work as his shield. safe around you and will die to protect you all at once. if you like it, he loves it. his mantra.
“i hate how you’re so good at dancing. you make me look bad at this.” you whisper. you’re unsure why you’re whispering but it seems fitting since you’re so close.
he kisses the corner of your lips, “shut up. you make me look good, everyone’s been starin’ at you. i’ve been eyeing your fuckin’ old friends.”
“you can’t say that when there’s a literal bride here, ‘suki.”
“i can when i can’t even tell you what colour she’s wearin’.” then he gives a cute little smile, “you’re wearin’ candyfloss pink though. fuckin’ pretty in pink.”
“all six of us bridesmaids are.”
“and you’re the only pink i see.”
you giggle, resting your forehead on his shoulder for a pause. “i love you.”
“i love you too. we’re gonna be next.”
you lift your head up in a frown, “married?”
your boyfriend shrugs, “yeah, why not?”
you narrow your eyes, “you better not be proposing to me at a wedding.”
“don’t think so lowly of me, princess.” he chuckles and you watch his adam’s apple bob. his tie has gone missing from the ceremony earlier and he’s got three buttons undone. he’s giving a sexy bachelor look right now but he’s also been by your side or staring at you whenever he couldn’t be. “we are just talkin’ about it. there’s no way you thought i wasn’t gonna marry you.”
“you actually want to marry me?”
you’re not sure why you ask. you’ve never felt love the way you have with bakugou, so complete and sure. you couldn’t imagine what other traits you’d want your dream lover to have because bakugou truly, truly has them all.
he kisses you. it’s a peck because so many people are around and you’re quick to pout back at him. he huffs like you’re a bother but you’re anything but. he takes your chin between his finger tips to plant a kiss on your lips. he’s still playing safe, no tongue but the contact makes you dizzy all the same.
“you think i’d waste my time with a woman i’m not going to marry? i have goals, baby. making you mine forever is one of them.”
you giggle softly, “you’re so cheesy. i’m still yours forever without a ring on my finger.”
bakugou’s eyes turn to the shape of crescent moons as he watches you, so smiley that if the paps were around they’d be making thousands. “but a rock on your finger would be fuckin’ sick, wouldn’t it?”
you purse your lips like you’re thinking about it but one poke to your ticklish side and you’re falling into his arms in laughter again.
“yes, yes, possibly, maybe.”
your boyfriend hums, lifting his arm so you can twirl before him. pink swirls below you like a flower blooming and puzzle pieces begin to fall into place for bakugou all at once. he needs to get a ring on your finger, immediately.
your palm lands back on his chest, back into a side step, “can’t wait to take advantage of our fridge in the hotel. it’s all been paid for!”
bakugou rolls his eyes, not fighting how endeared he is by you.
having sex with katsuki and he’s just extra sensitive that day, feeling every emotion so much so he’s basically making love to you at this point
he doesn’t notice it himself at first but, he starts praising you in japanese and it catches you off guard but also turns you on ten times more lol
this is a big nom nom nom to me. big nom nom nom. i was saving this to potentially write but we can talk about it.
defo missionary right. and it’s all slow and SENSITIVE and he’s noisy above you. grunting and groaning. moving hair out of your face so he can look you in the eye. asking him to adjust your leg to put on his shoulder and he’s deep and you’re about it to start crying and wailing about how much you love him.
and it’s not like anything crazy has happened today. he hasn’t seen you in two days and he had a long draining day at work and more draining days to come and he’s missed you. needs to let off this stress. you were all over him, can never get enough of his pretty face and all that he does for you.
and maybe it starts in english like he always is with you. it being your shared language after all. the usual, “i love you so fuckin’ much.” then “shit, feels so good.” “needed this, baby.” “hmm?” “doin’ so well for me.” then he’s making these incoherent sounds. kissing your moans away and nodding to everything you say.
and you’re not sure what exactly makes him switch but it’s when he buries his head in your neck. nipping the thin skin there, bending your legs, deep inside you feel as if he’s in your stomach. now you’ve got no clue what he’s saying. you know it’s his language though.
you only realise after the second phrase. blinking away your watery eyes as you rock into him, crossing your legs tighter around his back.
then he’s mumbling something else. another phrase. repeating a sentence twice into your neck.
you mostly hear him speak it over the phone. to his parents, family and his childhood friends. sometimes the lady at the local asian supermarket. video call meetings with his agency back in japan. sometimes a couple pet name in japanese if he’s feeling cute, he saves that for date nights.
but never during sex in your ear while he’s buried inside you. you clench and his breath hitches.
his voice is deeper, earthier. more natural and flows out without effort or second thought. you can’t even attempt to translate it. perhaps a swear in there somewhere?
“‘tsuki…. baby…,” you don’t mean to whine but there’s no way you can say anything right now and it doesn’t come out with pleasure attached.
he lifts his head up. droopy sleepy eyes, bitten lips. he replies to you with a thrust, one that has you arching your back.
“i don’t know what you’re saying!” you wail, linking your hands around his neck and your boyfriend blinks at you.
“oh s-shit,” he utters, taking hold of your hips to keep you still. it’s as if you can see the memory of a second ago replaying in his mind. “didn’t realise i did that.” then he laughs stuttered and hoarse, “you’ve got me fucked up.”
he drops his eyes to where you’re connected. his cock, coated in your wetness, sliding out of your core before he pushes back in again. your eyes flutter shut when he does, hand reaching out for him, “‘tsuki….”
“was sayin’ you’re beautiful and i love you and i love when we fuck.” he grins like a man insane, which he’d only say he is with how much he loves you. “never wanna leave here with you.”
you’re all breathy, chest rising and falling with an orgasm around the corner. “s-so sappy,” you manage to smile, eyes still closed to catch up, “felt like y-you were keeping secrets from me.”
he shakes his head, adjusts your leg on his shoulder. he needs to come soon also, he’s been holding it off for too long now. “never baby. lemme make you come.”
helloooooo
how about a hughie smut? emotional rollercoaster? crying, sobbing, making up!!
just you, just this
pairing: hughie biggs x fem!reader
tw: smut, angst
a/n: mb for not posting in a bit
masterlist !
jason grace and hughie biggs variant
꒰ 爆豪勝己 ꒱ › katsuki hates being loud in bed. mdni. pro hero! bakugo x fem! reader. unprotected piv
for someone who’s so loud and cocky, katsuki is surprisingly quiet in bed. because he hates the sounds he makes, finds his own whimpers and groans pathetic and weak. he hates the way his control dissolves, the way his body betrays him with hitched breaths and feeble groans. every time a whimper ‘threatens’ to spill from his lips, he’s gulping it down, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
he kisses you like he’s trying to swallow the moans building in his own chest. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, not just to taste you, but to make sure you’re so full of him that no sound can escape.
“kats breathe,” you gasp when he finally lets you up for air.
“shut up,” he snarls, but there’s no heat beneath his words.
when you finally sink down onto him, taking him in inch by excruciating inch, his whole body goes rigid. a sharp hiss falls through his gritted teeth, and he immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, as if in shame. you can feel the vibration of his groan against your throat, a guttural sound he tries so, so hard to kill.
“fuck,” he breathes, a mere puff of air against your glistening skin. his hips remain still, even as his cock throbs inside you
when you start to ride him, his hands fly from your hips to your ass, then to your shoulders, anywhere he can get purchase, as if he’s physically trying to hold himself together. his breathing becomes harsh and uneven. you can hear the struggle in every inhale. his crimson eyes are squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in concentration that has everything to do with not falling apart.
you love watching him like this. you love being the one to unravel him. you pick up the pace, rolling your hips in that way you know drives him wild, and you feel the tremor that starts in his thighs, the way his calloused fingers dig bruises into your perfect skin.
a sound that’s half-gasp, half-whimper, bubbles up, and katsuki immediately clamps his mouth down on your shoulder — using your body to silence his own.
he’s drunk on the copper leaking from your broken skin. he presses soothing kisses to your shoulder and it makes you clench even harder around him. that’s what finally makes him break. a moan tears from his throat, muffled by your flesh but unmistakable. a vulnerable sound that’s completely at odds with the explosive hero he is by day. it’s the sound of him stripped of all his defenses
and he hates it. you can feel the way he freezes for a moment, horrified by his own lack of control. “don’t—”
“don’t what ? don’t stop ?” you tease, rolling your hips again.
“stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that,” he’ll grumble, turning his face away even as his hands white-knuckle your hips, pulling you closer.
but you’re not having it. you reach back, tangling your fingers in his sweat-damp blond hair, and pull his gaze towards yours. “let me hear you,” you murmur “wanna hear how good i make you feel.”
“no,” he shakes his head, stubbornly, eyes squeezed shut. “can’t. it’s too damn embarrassing.”
“it’s hot” you counter, “you’re hot katsuki. now let me hear you.”
“don’t — hah — say shit like that” he groans. his hips, now freed from their self-imposed prison, thrust up to meet yours. his moans become more frequent, little whimpers and moans he can’t swallow, each one is followed by a tightening of his jaw, a rosy flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.
“that’s it kats,” you encourage, “just like that.”
when you lean back, changing the angle just so, he finally, truly surrenders. his eyes fly open, wide and glazed with pleasure, and his mouth falls slack. a string of curses,spills from his lips. “fuuuck . . . you’re so—hck— damn you”
his face is completely red, and he’s so, so loud but he’s past the point of caring. his hips slam into yours, his movements losing all finesse, driven purely by need
“gonna. . fuck, baby. . i’m gonna—” he chokes out, and it’s the most warning you’ve ever gotten from him.
he cums with a strangled cry, your name a wanton mess on his lips. his whole body all but arches off the bed. the sounds he makes are muffled by your skin, but you feel them all the same—the whimpers, the groans, the exhausted panting. for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his ragged breathing and the pounding of your own heart.
then, slowly, he relaxes, his body going limp against yours. you know he’s replaying every sound, every whimper, and cringing. you card your fingers through his hair, holding him close, and wait. eventually, he shifts, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your sternum before muttering against your skin, “that’s never gonna happen again”
you don’t have to say anything. you just smile, because you know that next time, when you’re skin against skin and joined together as one, you’ll break his silence all over again.
© GYARUJO 2026. please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites. do not feed to ai
hey how are you? how are exams going?
maybe i could request something with feely? i have such a hyper fixation on him its crazy! something fluffy smutty pls and thank you 💋
all for you
pairing: patrick feely x fem!reader
tw: it’s just smut
a/n: i’ve been on holidays mb for the content drought
masterlist !
salty makeouts
Arguing with Patrick Feely felt like standing on the edge of a cliff during a thunderstorm—one moment it was all wind and the scent of salt in the air, thrilling and alive, and the next you were being hurled into crashing waves below. It always started quietly, cautiously. Like two people trying not to wake a sleeping giant. But inevitably, one word—just one—would send everything spiraling.
You had been standing in the middle of his bedroom when it happened. The place was dimly lit, only the soft golden glow of the old lamp on his nightstand throwing pools of light on the deep navy walls. His guitar leaned lazily against the edge of the bookshelf, schoolbooks were strewn across the desk in his usual half-chaotic fashion. It smelled like sandalwood and something sweet—his cologne. Familiar, comforting, even when everything else felt sharp.
“You’re being crazy!”
There it was. The word. That word.
You froze. Your body stiffened like you’d just walked into icy water. You blinked once, then again, like if you did it enough times, the sting behind your eyes would go away.
He realized it the moment it left his mouth. His expression shifted, regret flickering in his dark eyes for just a second. But then, as always, pride got in the way.
“Oh, I see. Sorry for trying to be enough for Patrick fucking Feely,” you said, voice trembling like the air before a storm. You folded your arms tightly over your chest, more to keep yourself from shaking than anything else.
“Maybe stop trying so hard,” he snapped, tone sharp. “It’s suffocating. You’re suffocating.”
You flinched. Your lip trembled before you could stop it. “That’s mean, Pat. You’re being mean.”
“No, I’m not being mean. I’m being real,” he said, taking a step away, as if distance would soften the blow. “Ever since you came back from Dublin, you’ve been… different. I can’t deal with this right now. I should go.”
Oh, that’s how it is…
“Yeah,” you whispered, though your heart was roaring. “Yes, you should.”
He didn’t look at you again. Just turned, grabbed his jacket off the back of his desk chair, and left. The door slammed behind him, vibrating through your bones.
For a few moments, you just stood there, staring at the space he left behind. His scent still lingered in the air. His hoodie was still draped over the edge of the bed. There was an empty mug on the nightstand—he’d made you tea that morning. That version of him, the one who made tea and sang you songs when you couldn’t sleep, felt like a ghost now.
You dropped onto the bed, knees folding in, your back curling like a dying leaf. Then the tears came. Not the pretty kind. The ugly, heaving, choking kind. The kind that leaves your face blotchy and your chest hollow. You weren’t even crying over the fight—you were crying because you believed him. Because deep down, that small, cruel voice in your head had been whispering the same thing for weeks: You’re too much.
The next day at Tommen was a blur. The school looked the same, but everything felt different. The halls were filled with laughter and chatter, but it passed over you like smoke. You kept your head down, eyes fixed on the floor tiles like they held all the answers.
In class, you sat next to Shannon, who was practically glowing as she spoke about her weekend in Dingle with Kav. Her fingers twisted through her curls as she described the seaside cottage, the firelit dinners, the moonlit walks on the shore. You nodded along, offered smiles in the right places, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on that moment in Patrick’s room. That word. Crazy.
You didn’t look behind you, because you knew. You could feel him. That strange gravity Patrick Feely always carried—his stare burning holes in the back of your neck. But he didn’t approach. And neither did you.
The walk home was miserable. A thin drizzle coated the streets in a slick sheen, and the grey sky seemed to mirror your mood perfectly. The route along the canal was usually your favorite—lined with cherry trees and little stone benches—but today it felt too open, too exposed. Like the world was watching you unravel.
That night, sleep never came. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, counting the rotations of the fan, your thoughts spiraling faster than the blades. You didn’t eat. You skipped your meds. You drowned yourself in schoolwork, hoping to quiet the noise.
But Patrick’s voice kept echoing.
The third day after the fight, something snapped. You grabbed your coat, pulled on his hoodie—you hadn’t been able to stop wearing it, no matter how much it hurt—and left your house with no real destination in mind. Your feet just… moved.
You ended up at the lake.
It was raining again. Not a drizzle—proper Irish rain, coming down in sheets. The kind of rain that soaked you through no matter how fast you ran. But you didn’t run. You walked slowly, letting the cold water seep into your shoes, your hair plastering to your face, your fingers trembling.
The lake was surrounded by trees, dark and wild, the kind that seemed to hold secrets. You’d come here with him before. Once, after a particularly bad anxiety attack, he’d brought you here. Sat you on a blanket, wrapped you in his arms, and talked about nonsense until you smiled.
Now you stood on the edge, arms wrapped around your own body, sobbing so hard it felt like your ribs might crack. “You said you’d never leave when it got hard,” you whispered to no one, voice raw.
“I didn’t,” came a voice behind you.
You froze.
Slowly, you turned.
The rain came down harder now, like the sky itself was falling apart. Cold water streamed down your back, soaking Patrick’s hoodie clinging to your frame, and yet you barely noticed. Every nerve in your body was locked on him.
Patrick stood just a few feet away, chest rising and falling beneath his drenched T-shirt, jaw tense, fists clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust his own body not to reach for you.
“I didn’t leave,” he said again, hoarse.
You blinked at him, raindrops mingling with the tears on your cheeks. “You walked out, Patrick. You let me fall apart. You let that word leave your mouth and then you just… left.”
“I know,” he whispered, as if even saying it caused him physical pain. “I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now. I’ve been carrying it around since I closed that fucking door. I wanted to turn around the second I left.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
His eyes searched yours, helpless and hollow. “Because I’m a coward. Because loving you means seeing parts of myself I don’t like. Because sometimes you look at me like I’m the only thing holding you together, and it scares the hell out of me. Because I didn’t think I deserved to be your person. Not when I couldn’t fix what was hurting you.”
“I didn’t ask you to fix me,” you said, voice cracking. “I just needed you to stay. Even if I was messy. Especially because I was messy.”
“I know. I know that now. And I am so—” he stepped forward, his voice breaking—“so sorry I made you think you weren’t enough. You’re not suffocating. You never were. I was drowning in my own fear and I lashed out like a bloody coward.”
Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it hard to keep it from fully quivering. You hated how much you wanted to believe him. How even now, after everything, you still wanted to run to him and bury yourself in the comfort of his arms.
But he saw it—the flicker of hope in your eyes—and that’s all he needed.
He stepped closer. One step. Then another. Slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.
You didn’t stop him.
“I miss you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I miss you so much it physically hurts. I miss your laugh. Your weird obsession with that ridiculous cardigan. The way you whisper my name when you’re half asleep. I miss us, and I know I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me but—”
You reached out before he could finish.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, dragging him the final inch toward you until your foreheads touched. His breath hitched as he leaned into the contact, eyes fluttering closed.
“I hate how much I love you,” you whispered.
A single breath passed between you.
Then your lips crashed into his.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or pretty. It was desperate. Like kissing him was the only way to stop the ache in your chest. Like if you didn’t kiss him now, your bones might shatter from the weight of missing him.
He groaned into your mouth, one hand flying to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your soaked hair as he kissed you like he’d been starving. His other hand found your waist, pulling you tightly against him, like he couldn’t stand even a millimeter of distance.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your lips between kisses. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
You kissed him again, harder, your hands framing his face. “You hurt me,” you whispered against his skin.
“I know,” he said, eyes red, voice barely holding it together. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. His breath hitched under your touch.
“I don’t want promises,” you said. “I just want you. Real. Scared. Messy. But here.”
“I’m here,” he breathed. “God, I’m so here.”
And then you kissed again slower this time. Painful in its tenderness. His lips moved like he was trying to memorize the shape of yours all over again, like every second he’d gone without you was being rewritten in that moment.
He kissed your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth. Your eyelids. Reverent. Apologetic. Devoted.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Even when I’m the worst version of myself. Even when you can’t see it. I love you.”
You let yourself fall into him completely, arms wrapping around his waist as he buried his face in your neck, holding you like he was afraid the wind would tear you from him if he let go.
And there, standing in the rain by the lake—two heartbreaks stitched together with saltwater and apologies—you knew you were choosing each other again.
Not because it was easy.
But because love like this was worth it
꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ࿐ ⟡ ݁
HUGHIE BIGGS AESTHETIC, boys of tommen
𝜗ৎ
“ ours was a lethal combination of hard, angry love that seemed to withstand the test of time. because it just wouldnt give up. it wouldnt burn, it wouldnt die. her lips were an accelerant to the unquenchable flame inside my heart, and my body roared to life, responding to its mate “